This post is only to point out the fact that I like to think in really odd ways and personify strange things. I just like to personify. For example, “The laptop squeals in anguish as his owner, Mervin Choun, types out an agonizing blog post about cups on his coffee table.”

Like the cups that are sitting in front of me right now. Left out by their respective owners who actually grabbed them in the first place. Left out to be forgotten and left out to be left there for a long time. A combination of mugs, free plastic drexel cups, fancy glass cups, and a lonely Poland Springs water bottle. All standing up right but one knocked over.

Who do these cups belong to? All six of them don’t know. Except for one. The writer of this post. The one with the plastic drexel cup. Claimed by him for all to know. That cup is fucking mine.

But what about the others? Oh wait, another one just popped up. Hidden by the screen of this laptop is another mug. Strangely enough, one of the mugs that the writer of this post brought to this house and is usually reserved for him. What’s it doing out here? Good question.

All of them almost empty except for the last drops that the last user had left. The last drops that we like to call “backwash”. We all know that the last bits of a bottle or a cup are really the saliva of the previous user (or users). All of that backwash is the only evidence of the previous owners.This is a sad and lonely story. A sad and lonely story that could only be reserved for these type of cups. The futures of these cups are unpredictable and probably wild. They could be used once or they could be use various times. They could be used by the same person or by multiple people confusing that cup as their own. They could be filled with the pureness of Philadelphia tap water or possibly by the vile and evil liquid of liquor or beer. They could end up being left there for days without being washed or being washed immediately after use, ready for another rotation of lips coming to their lips.

Of course, that’s what these cups live for. The lip to lip action! No matter what they were originally crafted for, these cups need the be drank from. Without it, they are no long cups but merely containers of liquid. Simple tupperwear without a lid! And without a doubt, these cups do not want to be pushed down to the lowely class of tupperwear. Although they may be kings of leftovers, they are merely paupers to the fine china.

As said before, the future of these warriors of liquid may be uncertain. But one thing is certain to this drunken writer. They all will end up getting washed, and they will all ended up in the exact same spot.

You took a little sip didn’t you? You popped and now you can’t stop. Greed, Lust, Gluttony. You dipped your finger into the peanut butter jar, spread it over the celery, and fucking chomped on it. Satisfying? Of course. But who knows where that finger’s been. In fact, who knows where that celery has been.

It feels familiar doesn’t it? Rain that is. That smell is is usually distinctive but it never is for me. It reminds me of fish. Or the times when I was little and I didn’t care about getting wet. I’d still stay outside until it started to lighting. Puddles weren’t a nusiance but an awesome source of entertainment.

Fun. What happened to it? It use to walk up to me and we use to spend hours just exploring and satisfying our curiousities. Now? I have to find it cause it’s usually hiding. Then it’s a short time and I’m already missing it.